


New Brand

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [87]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: And he’s having like — he’s kind of having fun. That’s obviously besides the point, performance wise, but it’s fun playing with Julius, it’s fun playing in front of big crowds — even though none of the arenas are at capacity for exhibition games, they’re still all five figures. He misses Bryce, he misses home, but he’s enjoying things he didn’t last year, when he was too wrapped up in feeling like he was playing shitty, knowing he wasn’t good enough to stay up, hold onto any of it. He thinks he might, this year. He really hopes he does.





	New Brand

The preseason goes well. Okay, it doesn’t — the Oilers lose game after game, and yeah, Jared is aware that’s just like, the way it is for the Edmonton Oilers, better get used to it, but it’s not exactly fun. There are hopeful signs, if not necessarily for this season, than for future ones: Fitzgerald’s currently over 70% in the dot, which is insane for a centre still in his ELC, one of the D prospects is +3, which, considering their current record, means he’s basically perfect, and while their goaltending’s as big a wreck as last year, if not bigger, the offence has ticked up, the flashes of brilliance Julius had shown from the get-go morphing into a scoring streak that the Edmonton media is happily chattering about. Jared’s already seen a few people in Halla jerseys.

Jared maybe only noticed the Julius thing personally, was told by Bryce about the rest. You’d think it was Bryce on the bench during those games, not him. It’s good to hear it, though, movement in the right direction, like maybe by the time Jared’s ELC is winding down the Oilers will be a team he’ll actually be excited to play for. A guy can hope.

Despite all the losing, the preseason’s going well for him personally. Jared’s getting more games than he did last year, and he’s pretty sure that’s a good sign. Plays better too, which is definitely a good sign, not even from a making the roster perspective — or not _just_ from a making the roster perspective — but because he _should_ be better. He’s bigger, stronger, better trained, and smarter than he was last year, and he feels it, stepping onto the ice. Part of that might be that they put him on Julius’ wing a couple times, and Julius is the kind of player who drags everyone up along with him, but even when Jared isn’t on his right, shuffled up with Fitzgerald or down with Andersson, he’s still doing positive things. 

And he’s having like — he’s kind of having fun. That’s obviously besides the point, performance wise, but it’s fun playing with Julius, it’s fun playing in front of big crowds — even though none of the arenas are at capacity for exhibition games, they’re still all five figures. He misses Bryce, he misses home, but he’s enjoying things he didn’t last year, when he was too wrapped up in feeling like he was playing shitty, knowing he wasn’t good enough to stay up, hold onto any of it. He thinks he might, this year. He really hopes he does.

*

The second to last game of the preseason, the Flames come to Edmonton, Bryce in the line-up this time. Jared is too, which has him feeling anxious. He’s not like, worried about playing Bryce, exactly — they’re not going to be matched up — just. He doesn’t know. You never know what to expect going into a game, and it’s nerve-wracking knowing he’s going to be playing his fiancé, would have been even if Chaz hadn’t put extra worries in his head, Bryce’s reaction to the hypothetical of Jared getting boarded by a Flame emphatically not helping with the anxiety. 

It doesn’t help that he won’t see Bryce. Or, like, he’ll see him, but they can’t spend the night together like they could in Calgary. Jared can hardly kick Julius out of their room without telling him _why_ he’s being kicked out, and even if he lied about it — and he knows he’s a bad liar — there’s a chance of Julius coming back too early, or catching some hint or something, and Jared kind of likes the serious little dude, but he doesn’t know whether he trusts him yet, especially with something that big. The problem with him being inscrutable is, well. He’s inscrutable. Jared has no idea what he’s thinking, most of the time.

Bryce has his own room, of course, but there’s risky, and then there’s walking down a hallway populated by Calgary Flames and hoping none of them recognise him from the game they had literally just played. Bryce offered to get another one, but they’ve both got curfew, even if Jared’s isn’t actually enforced when he’s at home, as far as he’s seen, so renting a hotel room for like, an hour or two would be like blatantly admitting they’re just using it to have sex.

“Well,” Bryce says, when Jared says as much. “Duh.”

“We’re not renting a hotel room for the sole purpose of getting laid,” Jared says. “That’s, like, sleazy.”

“You’re sleazy,” Bryce mumbles.

“You wish I was sleazy,” Jared retorts.

“Right now, yeah, kinda,” Bryce says.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll be back in Calgary in three days anyway,” Jared says.

“You won’t be,” Bryce says.

“You don’t know that,” Jared says.

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “I do. You’re making the squad, Jared.”

“You don’t know that,” Jared repeats, but smiles down at his comforter, pleased.

*

The Flames get in the day before they play, set to fly out as soon as it’s over, and Jared grabs dinner with Chaz and Bryce — Chaz is a very convenient third wheel for deniability reasons, and he bitches about it, but he doesn’t actually say no — has breakfast with Bryce the next morning at a tiny little place he’s found where everyone looks simultaneously bored and overcaffienated at all times. If anyone bats an eye at them, it’s not because Bryce has been recognised.

“I’m not going to go easy on you just because, you know,” Bryce says, when he’s got to leave for practice.

“No shit,” Jared says, and gives him an eyeroll in lieu of a kiss goodbye.

They’re never on the ice at the same time, not for a single second, so it’s not like Jared is playing him directly, but Bryce didn’t lie about not going easy on him. Or like, the Oilers. He does not go easy on the Oilers. At all.

Jared’s never watched Bryce quite like this. He’s seen him play the Oilers, of course, but even when Jared was nominally on the roster, it was a far cry from sitting on the bench, watching him do his thing, a mix of the awe he always gets, watching Bryce, because Bryce is so fucking good, and frustration, because Bryce is so fucking good, and the Oilers can’t do anything to contain him.

No one’s boarding Jared tonight, which is nice, because he doesn’t share Chaz’s level of concern about Bryce losing it, but he isn’t _unconcerned_ about that, plus, you know, it’s good not to be boarded. Unfortunately he doesn’t have to worry about it even a little, because the puck’s barely on his stick all game. Barely on any of the Oilers’ sticks; the possession is decidedly in Calgary’s favour, and the Flames don’t have to play physical when they’re beating on Edmonton the way they are, the final score a brutal 7-1 after an absolute shelling.

He’s got a text waiting for him after Rogers’ postgame ‘we did our best, boys’ speech — the sad thing is they probably _did_ — Bryce telling him he’s got forty-five minutes before he’s got to be on the bus to the airport.

In another context, Jared might have preferred to sulk, but unless he goes back to the Hitmen he won’t be seeing Bryce for awhile, and honestly, he should probably get used to losing to Bryce sooner rather than later.

Jared sends him directions to a spot he knows is deserted, and that they won’t have to deal with security to get to. _Bring Chaz if he’s free?_

 _alrdy asked him_ , Bryce texts back. He’s getting better at the subterfuge thing.

They’re both waiting when Jared gets there, Chaz lowering his phone to give him a one-armed hug, Bryce giving him one that isn’t one-armed but is still at least moderately bro like.

“Here to rub it in, Mr. Four Point Night?” Jared asks.

“Eww,” Chaz says, and at Jared’s bemused look. “‘Rub it in’.”

“Are you five, Rossi?” Jared asks.

“Probably,” Chaz says.

“Sorry for beating you?” Bryce says. He does not look sorry. He, in fact, looks smug.

“Yeah, you look sorry,” Jared says.

Bryce shrugs with fake modesty.

“I feel like some kind of weirdo chaperone right now,” Chaz says. “No funny business, boys.”

“Bite me,” Bryce says.

“I’d say that was J’s job, but that counts as funny business,” Chaz says. “I’m going to turn my back now. No biting.”

Jared rolls his eyes at Bryce when Chaz actually turns his back to them, and Bryce grins back. They can’t actually do anything, really, funny business or not — it’s not super public here, but it’s not guaranteed private, either, so all they can really do is stand close, suck up like, physical contact through lack of personal space.

“We’re back in Edmonton in two weeks,” Bryce says. “Better have your own place by then. Or your own room, at least.”

“If I’m still here,” Jared says, and Bryce scowls at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Sure we can’t find a bathroom or something?” Bryce says, low. “We’ve still got like, twenty minutes.”

“I could hear that and I hate you so fucking much right now,” Chaz says loudly, and Jared feels himself go red, but Bryce goes redder.

*

Jared sits out the last game of the preseason, but he feels good, watching, feels like the team would have been better if he was on the ice. They win it anyway — it was mostly the real roster, with a few bubble guys, and they played well, but still, he could see himself clicking right in.

Pretty much all of Jared’s confidence has evaporated by the time he’s waiting for his meeting slot with Deslauriers, the moment of truth or whatever. It’s in the early afternoon, and Jared wonders if that’s a good sign or a bad one. Like, maybe he tells the guys who are a sure thing in the morning, and then lets guys go mid-day, then ends the day telling the guys on the bubble who made it, like the meeting version of a compliment sandwich. Or maybe he doesn’t even meet the sure thing guys at all, just has the assistant GM do a two minute call or something. Julius already met with him, and Julius is definitely making the roster, so maybe he got all the bad ‘sorry, maybe next year’ stuff done right away and saved the better meetings for later, or maybe —

He’s panicking, a little, he’s pretty sure, and trying to figure out the schedule of a GM he’s barely spoken a word to isn’t helping, but then, he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Matheson,” Deslauriers booms when Jared’s summoned to his office. He walked the tightrope between power forward and enforcement during his career, and he’s still intimidating now — when he stands to shake Jared’s hand Jared notices he’s got a good few inches on him, and even though he’s in his late fifties and kind of post-retirement soft, he’d probably kick Jared’s ass in a fight. “Take a seat,” he says, and Jared tries hard not to find either encouragement or discouragement in that. Presumably everyone gets to sit. 

Jared takes a seat, wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, feeling a really nauseating sense of deja vu.

“Your growth’s impressed the hell out of us Matheson,” Deslauriers says, which is kind of funny, because obviously he wasn’t around to witness it, but the coaching staff’s the same, so Jared’s pretty sure he’s being their mouthpiece right now. It’s a good feeling, but Jared’s still waiting for the ‘but’. Fuck, he doesn’t want the ‘but’. Last year, he got it from Donahue, and he deserved it, but he doesn’t think he does this time. “You’ve clearly put in a lot of hard work since last year.”

“Thank you,” Jared manages, instead of supplying the ‘but’ himself. Deslauriers would probably not be amused.

“We’d like to see what you can do,” Deslauriers says, but instead of saying ‘in the AHL’, or ‘in your final season of Juniors’, he continues with, “I can’t guarantee you’ll be staying up with us, but —”

There’s the ‘but’, but it — it wasn’t the one Jared had started to expect.

Deslauriers doesn’t finish his sentence, but he honestly doesn’t need to. Jared has to play ten games before the first year of his ELC kicks in, so this isn’t a guaranteed season with the Oilers, it’s a nine game tryout. Fuck it up and they send him back to Calgary, or, technically better but in practice worse, to Bakersfield.

“I’ll earn my spot,” Jared says, because he’s got no choice.

*

It doesn’t quite sink in right away. Jared calls Greg, who already knows, and they talk like, logistics on his walk back to the hotel, but it isn’t until he’s in the elevator up that it like — 

He’s an Edmonton Oiler. 

Holy shit.

Julius looks up from his phone when Jared drifts into the room.

“Did you—” Julius asks, then offers a thumbs up along with a questioning look.

“Conditionally,” Jared says, and when Julius blinks, amends it to, “Yeah, for now.”

“Me too,” Julius says, like he even needs to tell Jared, then holds out his fist. It’s the most solemn fistbump Jared’s ever been involved in, and one of Jared’s best friends is Raf Sanchez, so that’s saying something.

Jared calls his parents while Julius chills on the opposite bed, headphones in, because he figures Bryce is still at the Saddledome — obviously no one needs to tell him he’s made the roster, but he’s probably got other shit to deal with, media or whatever. 

“Don’t need a ride back to Calgary this year,” Jared tells his mom, and the sound she makes is very much not work appropriate or like, appropriate for his ears. “Ow!”

“Oilers or Condors?” she asks.

“Oilers,” Jared says. “I mean, for—”

“Call your father!” she yells at him, then, presumably to whoever else in the vicinity just had to suffer through that noise, “Jared made the roster!”

Jared’s now imagining his mom going around her office telling everyone who’ll listen about him — it’s not even ‘my son’, it’s ‘Jared’, which means they’ve definitely endured multiple stories about him. 

“I’ll call dad,” Jared says, grinning. He wonders for a second how she even knows he hasn’t yet, but then, she has mom abilities. That or his dad would have immediately called her if Jared had and spoiled the surprise before Jared could tell her himself. That one seems more likely.

“Right now, or I will,” she says. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

His dad doesn’t yell, but he does — and this is absolutely terrifying to Jared — sound really fucking choked up when he congratulates him.

“I guess I’m buying an Oilers jersey,” his dad says, still choked.

“Don’t you dare,” Jared says, and when his dad laughs, “Dad, I mean it.”

“Gotta get used to it eventually, kiddo,” his dad says. “You’re going to be wearing it a lot.”

“Maybe,” Jared says. “I mean, you know it’s like, unofficially just another tryout, so—”

“You’re going to be wearing it a lot,” his dad says.

“Yeah, maybe,” Jared says. “Doesn’t mean you should be.”

“We’ll see,” his dad says, and Jared has a sinking feeling there’s going to be two Mathesons wearing Matheson jerseys the next time he sees them, himself not included. Shit. Well. 

Could be worse.

*

Jared should wait until after dinner to call Bryce, or at least text him to see if he’s busy first, but apparently patience is for losers.

“Did you make it?” Bryce asks, the second he picks up. Patience is definitely for losers.

“Hi BJ,” Jared says. Julius still has headphones in, and appears to be napping even though the music’s so loud Jared can hear it filtering through them, but that’s no reason to take chances. “Nice to hear your voice.” 

The sad thing is, as much sarcasm as he says it with, that is one-hundred percent true.

“Did you?” Bryce asks.

“Yeah,” Jared says, and Bryce blows out an audible breath. “Thought you said me making it was a sure thing.”

“I mean, if your GM’s smart, yeah,” Bryce says. “But who the fuck knows what goes on in their heads sometimes.”

“Well,” Jared says. “Fair.”

“I’m so fucking happy for you,” Bryce says.

“Even though you’re officially sleeping with the enemy now?” Jared says.

“You are too,” Bryce points out, then, “How’s it feel?”

Jared’s not sure if he means making the roster or the sleeping with the enemy bit. It honestly doesn’t matter, because the answer’s the same either way.

“Pretty fucking great,” Jared admits.

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “Yeah, for me too.”


End file.
